The Grey Warden Dies Here
by Kilyra
Summary: When someone tries to kill you, you kill them right back correct? Apparently not everyone got that memo...some people make them a friend of sorts. This is a collection of story snippits that compliment The Road Ahead, or are fun on their own.
1. Nice to Meet You

Livestock lie dead and wagons overturned in an elaborate ruse that almost worked. The dust was slowly settling from the very recent skirmish as they all stood in the narrow passage. Staring down at their latest threat, they listened while he concluded his plea, "To be completely honest, I was never given much of a choice regarding joining the Crows. The only way out, however, is to sign up with someone the Crows cannot touch."

She mulled this all over, trying to keep her head clear. He called himself Zevran, and his attempts at being charming were not winning him any favours, but his rationale was. Due to failing to kill his target, he now had three choices: die at the hands of the Crows, die at her hands, or enter her service. Obviously he was leaning towards the third choice and was trying to convince her to do the same. From what she could tell, he was not lying, and he had proven himself in battle. He may have been defeated, but she personally felt it was just by dumb luck on her part. If he sincerely could be trusted, he would be an extremely powerful ally. The true question was could he actually be trusted?

Finally, Leliana cast a confused look towards their quiet leader – it was not like her to take so long in a decision. Kila was never hasty or reckless, but she usually seemed to immediately know the right course of action. She couldn't help but notice how Kila was looking at the dark-skinned assassin. He was virtually the only other elf Kila had come across since leaving the Alienage, and he even looked like he could be her kin with the same fair hair and bright eyes. That must be confusing. "I will even shine armour," he interrupted the silence, "You won't find a better deal, I assure you."

"He comes with us," Kila quietly said, not looking up

"What?! You're taking the assassin with us now?" Alistair blurted. Had he just heard this right? This elf had tried to kill them minutes ago, and now he'll just be another merry member of their little group?

Darkly, she fixed her eyes on Alistair. Did he think this was just a flippant decision? How can he expect it all so black and white? Menacingly, she sailed over to him, pulling her dagger out from her belt and roughly slapped it flat against his chest, "If you want him dead, then _you_ kill him."

There was a long moment of tension as Kila silently dared him to question her again. Or do the deed himself. Leliana turned from the pair to keep an eye on the fallen assassin. After all, this discord really would be the perfect opportunity for him, although he did not move.

"No," Alistair sighed, "I see your point, we need all the help we can get…Still if there was ever a sign that we were desperate, I think it just knocked on the door and…"

"Just get him up," she barked, slicing through his attempt at levity.

Alistair's jaw visibly clenched at this demand, but he said no more. He knelt down to help the assassin, who was far too injured get up on his own. As they stood, Zevran looked to Kila, "I herby pledge my oath of loyalty to you until such a time as you choose to release me from it. I am your man, without reservation. This, I swear"

She was already walking away from the scene. It was only supposed to be a quick trip to town for more food supplies before they moved on. That's it. No excitement, no ferocious battles, no delays. Of course nothing was ever that simple was it? No doubt, those at camp would be worried by now. Fortunately, the remainder of trip was uneventful, although it was slowed by the injured elf.

It was twilight by the time they reached camp, and Sten had already started the fire. Spotting the companions, Wynne rose to her feet, "We were worried, is everything…" her words stopped short when this new, bloodied person hanging off of Alistair came into view, "…alright? What happened?"

"Oh, nothing much," Leliana replied nonchalantly, "We just got ambushed by a group of assassins and decided to bring their leader home for dinner."

"Put him down there, Wynne will have to see to him," Kila instructed Alistair, pointing near the fire. Rather than helping him down, he simply let go of Zevran who unceremoniously crashed to the ground with a groan.

Wynne looked from Leliana down to the elf crumpled on the ground. Her eyebrows furrowed in both confusion and concern, "What? I'm afraid I don't understand…"

"Join the club," retorted Alistair as he pushed his way through the group and headed towards his tent. In response to all the tension that came barging into the camp, Tolan, the faithful Mabari let out a low growl and he came over to Kila's side.

Zevran struggled to sit up, "Allow me to introduce myself, I…" was as far as he got before the butt of Kila's bow jammed into his shoulder, slamming him back on the dirt. Everyone froze, not sure if they were about to spring into action or get out of the way.

She stood over the assassin with her bow driving into his shoulder, keeping him firmly pinned. Apparently one of his many injuries resided there as he began seeing various colours clouding his vision. But he did not try to move again. "Let me be clear," she hissed at him, "You are not to even breathe, much less get up unless I tell you to. I do not trust you."

His Antivan accent was thick with the pain that he refused to give in to. With a smirk, that was trying not to twist into a grimace he asked, "Then why am I here?"

_Good question._ "Shut up." She growled as she released him from under the thumb of her bow. He respected her request, remaining still and silent. It did not take a brilliant man to realize he was in no position to push his luck at the moment. Wynne also kept the silence, understanding it was not a good time for questions. Perhaps she would seek out Leliana later. Gathering her supplies, she quickly set out to help the injured new party member, welcoming him to the group.


	2. Zevran has a Question

_**Author's Note:** So they fight, Blight related things happen, they try to recruit people blah blah blah...okay back to some fluff ;) I'm just going to try and keep my little story bits in one spot is all. And these all do compliment my Horrors and Joys story as a point of interest._

Quietly, she stared deeply into the fire, as was her usual ritual after everyone ate and began to settle in for the evening. It was her time of peace - the only refuge in the world and it was offered to her by the dusk. Shuffling back, she moved to lean on one of the stumps that served as a chair, but stopped quickly with a grimace.

Within seconds, Zevran appeared at her side, "Are you alright my dear Lady?" he asked, not one to miss a thing.

"It's nothing, I'm fine." Kila tried to dismiss him to no avail.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, what are these lies you tell me? You should at least let me take a look, to make sure it truly is nothing." She cast a suspicious look at him but he continued to smile sincerely at her. "I know my way around battle wounds I assure you, but if you would prefer I shall get Wynne …"

With a sigh, she stiffly turned away from him, lifting the back of her as high as she could before stopping from pain. If Zevran made an issue of things, then Wynne made a catastrophic event of them. The old woman was growing on her, even so.

He lifted the back of her shirt up to her shoulders and let out another 'tsk'. Between her spine and shoulder blade was the making of a large, dark, angry bruise. "You did get pummeled awfully hard the other day. I was…" _afraid I wouldn't make it to you in time_, "surprised how quickly you sprang up from it in fact."

After putting pressure on her ribs and getting no reaction he continued, "Good news is there is indeed no serious damage. I do have a salve that might numb the pain, but beyond that, there is little that can be done." He let his fingers linger, gently brushing down the skin of her back. The shiver it incited was difficult to miss, but in response, she dropped her shirt back down. "All the same, I do not think I will drive the butt end of my sword into it".

Her mouth dropped open then shut again quickly at the embarrassment of remembering how she had been when he first arrived at their camp so many weeks ago. Kila seemed to be an open book to him as, without missing a beat, Zevran chuckled softly and squeezed the top of her shoulders, "Oh my dear I jest. After all, I did try to kill you no? Really, it was only fair."

Not giving up his chance to speak with her, he moved in front of her and asked, "So if I am not to heal you, can I at least treat your blades?"

"My…blades?" She pulled her daggers from their sheaths, "But there's nothing wrong with them. I've cleaned them and there's no blood or rust or anything." She turned them over in her hands carefully inspecting them when she noticed the frown on Zevran's face. "Besides, you've more than earned your keep in battle; I was not going to hold you to your promise of shining our armour and such."

"No? Then let me do it out of mercy. I cannot stand to see such blades be so mistreated." Gently he reached over, putting his hands on hers, and carefully tried to pry the daggers from her fingers. He gave her a reassuring smile in light of her insulted look, maybe mistreated was too strong of a word, "Please. Please?" Finally she let her blades slip from her grasp.

She sat up on the stump as Zevran quickly ran back to his tent to grab his supplies. He settled at her feet, with his back to her, and set to work on her weapons. "I've a question, if I may." He said after a moment.

It was his voice that brought her to reality, and she realized she had been staring at the taut muscles in his shoulders as he worked. The light fabric of his tunic did little to hide his masculine form. Averting her gaze she replied, "Sure…of course."

"Well, here is the thing. I swore an oath to serve you yes? And I understand this quest you're on and this is all very fine and well. My question pertains to what you intend to do with me once this business is over with. As a point of curiosity." He suddenly spoke with stiffness although he tried to be casual.

"Do with you…?" She echoed. She could think of a few things but…

"Oh, I imply nothing specific of course," he said lightly, "One simply assumes that once your Grey Warden business is finished, you will have no need of an assassin to follow you about. Am I wrong?" Never once did he turn to look at her, but rather kept focused on slathering foreign creams over the blades of the weapon. His hand moved in small circles as he polished the creams into the metal.

Imply nothing? Oh. "Well, first of all, I don't hold you to your oath." His hand stopped moving. Was he insulted? She quickly added, "It's not that I doubt the sincerity of your oath …not at all. It's just…" Deeply she sighed. What did she mean?

"I don't hold you to your oath because I can't. I can't hold anyone here. I'm not some great army with the power to conscript civilians and house traitors in cages as a deterrent for deserting." He continued to polish, apparently satisfied with that. "For Alistair and I, we have no choice, it's literally in our blood. But each of you has your own reason to be here, be it an oath, a promise, a sense of duty, a genuine desire to help Ferelden, or," her eyes were skimming over those at camp and came to rest on Tolan, the Mabari and she mused, "Or…just have nothing better to do? But whatever the reason that brought you here, all I can do to hold you here is be a leader worth following, be worthy if the time you are giving to me. Which…_which I haven't been_." Her words melted into a whisper as her dark epiphany broke through.

Why did any of them stay? Her look passed over each of her companions again. It occurred to her how extremely lucky she was that no one had left her. Having a cause to believe in only carries people so far, and from there, they need a leader to believe in to move them the rest of the way. Tactical leadership was one thing, but people needed more to inspire loyalty. She knew all this, and yet offered her companions little. Sure, she was warmer to them now than in the beginning, but that's simply throwing shoestrings at a high dragon and calling it sound tactics. Suddenly, she wanted to announce an apology to everyone, but realized that the words would be hollow not to mention juvenile. Instead, she silently swore an oath to her party, an oath to be a leader worthy of them. And…maybe she should see if Bodahn had anything in the way of presents? A little good-will bribe couldn't hurt…

Zevran turned towards Kila and watched her quietly as she fell into contemplation. Her sharp features looked so delicate by the light of the campfire. He almost hesitated to interrupt her, "I made the oath willingly, but this is all the better." His smooth accent gently cut through the cloud of her thoughts. "But let's assume that I didn't desire to leave once the time came. What then?"

"Not go?" she asked, "You mean to say if you had the chance to leave you wouldn't take it? If I had the choice I…just can't understand why any one would stay"

"It is difficult to say why I might not want to leave." Finally he pressed the hilt of her daggers back into her hands as he finished. He looked up into her eyes, silently trying to impress something on her, "Is there no one that I might stay for?"

Was he implying…? A smile tried to pull at the corners of her mouth, but instead she quickly looked down to inspect the daggers in her hands. They were incredible, so rich and shiny they could easily replace any mirrors in camp. She could only guess this might be what they looked like when they were first forged – she was not their first owner, so she would never know.

"Andraste's Grace, these are amazing Zevran, thank you!" she exclaimed as she looked from the blades to him. He still required an answer, "Oh. Well…I don't know what to say. I don't know what will happen, where my duty will take me, or what I might need…." Was that a disappointed flash in his eye? It was so difficult to tell, he held his demeanor so well, "But in any case, I can always use a friend."

Thoughtfully he nodded, almost satisfied with that answer. Almost…"Oh? Not more than friends?"

Was he serious or joking? At the mere thought he might be serious, her face flushed and that smile returned before she could control it. Quickly her face went back to neutral, but her hand had already been shown. With a very forced chuckle she joked, "Well, we'll have to see on that won't we?"

"Indeed we shall," he chose to spare her and not comment on the bit of emotion he saw. They had many conversations over the last several weeks; both of them cautiously showing pieces of sincerity which others might not believe existed. As frightening as it was for him to contemplate letting his guard down, he was harder driven by the desire to witness the small glimpses past her guard.

No one else had seen that smile…no one but Leliana who just happened to look up from darning a hole in her tunic. A warm grin freely spread across her face, as it gave her great pleasure to see her weary leader smile so. She had to admit, it was a surprise that the first sincere smile she had ever seen on Kila was inspired by the man who initially tried to kill her. But so far he had proven himself trustworthy, and all Leliana could hope what that he might continue to make her smile. Gently she began to hum as she returned to her work - not wanting to interrupt the moment she was lucky enough to catch.


	3. Alistair after Redcliff

_**Author's Note: **My apologies to those waiting for an update to my longer story, "The Road Ahead", I was out of town this last week so I fell behind. But I will update early next week. Until then, I hope you enjoy this :)_

* * *

It was a ghastly experience. Even as she tried to forget, images of the blood mage sacrificing Arlessa Isolde invaded her mind. The blood…the horror…the icy feeling traveling down her spine as she fought her instincts and merely watched… Isolde's young son had fallen victim to a demon that took control of his body, and Isolde demanded to be sacrificed in order to save him. The distraught mother could not be dissuaded, and Kila was astonished that the decision had fallen on her. It seemed that no matter where she went, everyone was more eager to bow down to the authority of the Grey Wardens than to sort matters out for themselves. Filling that need, she found herself repeatedly rising to the occasion, no matter how much the situation horrified her.

Jowan was true to his word and used the life blood from the Arlessa to spare the boy. Being the only other mage among them, it was Morrigan who was sent into the Fade by the ritual. She was put in great danger to battle the demon, but saw there was no reasonable alternative. Connor was spared and the Arlessa died. Teagan was gracious, having stated that everyone other than the Arl Eamon was expendable. Bearing no ill will, he thanked Kila for sparing Connor, and quickly set to work on Arlessa Isolde's arrangements.

The entire trip back to the camp was eerily quiet. Alistair was unusually silent but Kila was hardly surprised. Being in Redcliff and finding his childhood home so broken would give anyone reason for pause. Kila had expected venomous words from Morrigan for being put in such a risky situation, but no such words came. In fact, she couldn't help but notice when Morrigan did address her, it was with a kinder tone than usual. Either Morrigan had been greatly exhausted by the ordeal, or she understood the position Kila was in. Whichever it was, Kila was grateful for any small miracle the Maker sent her way.

Arriving at camp, the ominous feel of the small group did not dissipate, but rather spread to the others. They instinctively knew not to ask. Kila was able to give a quick nod as she strode past everyone to her bedroll. She desperately longed to shrug off the armour that suddenly sat heavily on her weary shoulders. Making the decision between sacrificing an innocent child or a loving mother still made her sick to her stomach. It was done, but it still played over in her mind. Even though it was early she was ready to crawl into her bedroll and try to find relief in sleep.

Much to Kila's surprise however, Alistair approached her. He began pacing, and instantly she felt defensive. There was a great deal of tension between the two, spurred on by Kila's natural distaste for humans…particularly human males.

"Now that we're back at camp, I want to talk about what happened," he started, "At Redcliff."

Despite her feelings, Kila struggled to be compassionate. Alistair had a difficult time dealing with the recent death of his mentor and being witness to another death of someone he knew must be hard. As the leader of the group, it would be up to her to muster words of encouragement. She offered him a smile, "What's on your mind?"

Alistair hesitated for a moment before finally blurting out in a booming voice, "_You_ let Lady Isolde sacrifice herself! With blood magic!? How could you do that?"

Everyone at the camp turned towards the commotion, but quickly tried to focus their attention elsewhere. Alistair may as well have followed his shouting with a slap across the face - Kila felt the sting all the same. The compassion she tried to build for him quickly turned to ice; the tired fog of her mind cleared as the blood quickened in her veins. She shouted back, "So you think I should have killed a young boy instead?!"

"We could have gone to the Circle, we could have tried harder," Alistair narrowed his eyes at her.

"The Circle?? You mean taken days to travel there and back?!" Kila sputtered, "Surely you're joking! Do you not remember the walking corpses that were Redcliff? If we did not rid Connor of that demon one way or another, by nightfall there would have been another attack…and instead of Isolde, we would be sacrificing an _entire village_ of innocents!"

Alistair scowled, mulling her words over. In a quieter tone he pushed, "We…we just could have tried something other than _blood_ magic."

"Yeah…which would be _killing Connor_," Kila replied hotly, raising her voice, not ready to calm herself.

"I just don't know how you could do that, how you could make that decision…" He matched her raised voice again.

Kila took a step towards Alistair. Bringing herself to her full height she tried to get her face as close to his as she could, "No, of course you don't!! If you _did _know how to make a decision, you wouldn't defer to me all the time!"

"That's not fair!" he stooped slightly as he yelled back, trying to get to eye level as well.

"Not fair?! Is any of this?" Angrily, she jabbed her finger at his chest, "You can't have it both ways. Either _you _jump in and take the lead as the senior Grey Warden, or you stand down and deal with the decisions that _I _make."

Alistair paused for a long moment and straightened up slightly. He took a deep breath and replied, "This is the Arl and his family we're talking about here. It's just…I owe the Arl more than this."

"Oh ho," she hooted excitedly, not acknowledging his attempt at deescalating their shouting match, "So this isn't even about me?? This is about you and him?!"

"No…well maybe. I don't know," he sighed. "But I suppose it's done now…"

The realization of him being angry with himself should have calmed her. It should have struck some sort of maternal cord in her even. At the very least, his deflated tone should have calmed her anger somewhat. However, it just infuriated her further.

Outraged she shoved him hard. Taking him by surprise he stumbled back a step before catching himself. Having already backed down, the hurt and confusion showed on his face.

"I am _not _your punching bag _human_," she shrieked. Alistair stiffened at being called a human. She rarely threw that word around. "I try to be patient with you, help you through Duncan's death, and _this _is the thanks I get? You think this is easy?!"

He opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off quickly, "Ugh, forget it. The next time you get the urge to speak to me just…don't!"

Angrily, she spun away and started tearing at her armour straps. Her leather gauntlets came off easily and she hurled them down onto her bedroll, leaving Alistair awkwardly standing behind her and feeling the eyes of his campmates on him.

"I guess _I'm_ the one being the ass here," his words had a hint of sarcasm too them, but he quickly added, "I'm just going to end this before I do more than shove my foot in my mouth like an idiot."

Kila pinched the bridge of her nose, but refused to turn around, "Human, you best be gone by the time I turn around. Fellow Grey Warden or not…"

Alistair's shoulder's fell. He had gone from feeling bad to worse with no way of making it better. Wringing his hands anxiously, he turned and left the elf in peace.


End file.
